


Time Heals All Wounds

by Esperata



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt, M/M, Suffering, Talking, rebuilding friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Years after McCoy's public humiliation, and disintegration of any relationship with Spock, he returns to Enterprise.





	1. McCoy's POV

**Author's Note:**

> TAFKAB wrote a superb piece from dailyspones' tumblr prompt but I couldn't bear to leave McCoy in such a painful place. So I very quickly wrote an update for the story.

Leonard had truly thought he was ready for this.

It had been years since the events that had led him to return to Earth. He had achieved a sort of calmness, a sense of balance and equanimity that made him think he was finally over it. True, he had learnt never to let someone get close to him but that was a small price to pay for peace of mind.

It was almost ironic how he’d finally managed to master the art of hiding his emotions because of this. No pain could ever come close to that which he’d already endured so grievances simply rolled off him. Likewise, nothing offered enough happiness to fill the void left in his heart so he never really got excited either.

There was a lot to be said for apathy – primarily that it was better than searing pain – but McCoy couldn’t deny occasionally missing those flairs of feeling.

So when Jim had begged for him to return into space, needing his expertise in xenobiology as well as his honest support, McCoy had given in.

It wouldn’t be so bad, he reasoned. Jim had given no indication of remembering the confusion they’d all gone through and most of the crew were new personnel. In truth, it was nice to feel needed again. To be wanted. It had been many long years since Leonard had felt valued in such a way.

Working in a small family practice had been comforting but it had not fulfilled his potential. There had always been the nagging thought that he should be doing more.

The only issue, naturally enough, was Spock.

Leonard had queried as casually as he could about the Vulcan – whether he’d be on the mission – and Jim’s face had scrunched up.

No, was his answer. Spock had returned to Vulcan for a ritual purging of emotion. Jim made no attempt to conceal his upset at the notion.

Leonard felt a gnawing sadness at the idea but knew it was best this way. He even managed to hope Spock had found his own sense of peace. Despite everything, he never had blamed Spock. The blame, he knew, was entirely on his own foolish, emotional self.

So, with all his assurances met, he had signed on again to travel with Jim.

Everything had been fine until Spock had arrived and McCoy had found himself tending a decidedly emotional Vulcan in his sickbay. Professional detachment carried him through the encounter but as he hid back in his quarters later, it dawned on him that he was not in fact ready for this.

It was one thing to deal with life in a Southern backwater, where every day was predictable and no-one knew your past. It was quite another to try and remain indifferent within a confined ship’s crew where everything served to remind you of what you’d tried to forget.

He had thought that a totally redesigned ship would be without memories but he’d forgotten the fundamental nature of the _Enterprise_ was the same. One sickbay was reminiscent of another. A messhall was essentially the same everywhere. Even the bridge, for all it’s new design, harked intrinsically back to the old bridge.

McCoy had not stayed there long. A glimpse of Spock at his station had brought him out in a cold sweat and he’d retreated awkwardly.

No-one else might know but his own memories were surprisingly fresh.

Or perhaps not surprisingly.

He’d never really dealt with them as he deep down knew he should. As a doctor he was aware that he should have talked about how everything had affected him, either with his friends or even a therapist. He’d done neither. Rather he had hidden them away and worked to forget them.

Which had worked well enough for him to believe them vanquished.

So now he sat in his quarters, eyes contemplating the bottle of bourbon he’d brought intending to share on Jim’s birthday, and wondering if there was enough alcohol to drown the flashing imagery he couldn’t quite suppress.

His door chime interrupted his calculations and he swallowed back his measure before rising to open it.

The sight on the other side was a shock to his gut and he felt his knees weaken.

“Doctor. I believe we should talk.”


	2. Spock's POV

Spock could see the emotions in those eyes so very clearly – fear, panic, pain, anguish. He wondered now what he might have seen if he had approached the doctor in the immediate aftermath. Doubtless much the same and he felt his heart hurt at the realisation that the feelings were still so visible.

However now was not the time for such ponderances.

He stood aside and gestured for McCoy to join him outside. The human blinked.

“Ya want t’ go fer a walk?”

Spock heard the unusually strong drawl and noted the scent of bourbon. Briefly he considered rescheduling his plans before realising that would only be a further avoidance.

“I thought we might sit in the messhall. It seemed likely you would find your quarters too… intimate.”

McCoy flushed and deliberately looked away.

“Don’t know that we’ve much t’ talk about.”

“As a doctor you must recognise the importance of talking as a way of dealing with emotions.”

“Course. But I dealt with my emotions. Don’t need any input from you now.”

Spock doubted that very much but knew better now than to call the man on it.

“You may have,” he replied. “I however have not. The Vulcan ritual of kolinahr did not help me. I realised I needed to deal with this in a human manner.”

“Can’t you talk to Jim?”

Spock could see the pain written very clearly on McCoy’s face now but realised that was all the more reason to insist. It was a lesson it had taken him far too long to learn.

“Please Doctor?”

McCoy huffed but did finally step into the corridor. Spock began walking and the human automatically fell into step. It was almost like old times – except for the rigidity of posture, the silence and the sense of distance between them.

Spock allowed the quiet to remain, hoping that it might relax the doctor to some extent. It wasn’t until they had both got tea and were sitting opposite each other in the mess that Spock spoke again.

“I believe I must apologise-”

“Don’t Spock,” McCoy interrupted, unconsciously wincing on the name. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I was in error when I ignored you once I returned from my imprisonment.”

McCoy shrugged, neither conceding nor arguing the point.

“Done now,” he commented. “It don’t matter.”

“It does,” Spock insisted quietly. “I believed any feeling of responsibility on my part was illogical. I had not acted improperly to you.”

“Exactly. Nothing for you to feel guilty for.”

McCoy made to stand, half drunk tea abandoned. Spock spoke insistently.

“It was however improper to not acknowledge your own trauma. You were my friend.”

McCoy winced again and it took Spock a second to recognise the cause.

“I would hope we may be friends again,” he offered.

A rueful smile crossed the doctor’s face.

“No offense, but I don’t see how that can happen.”

Spock’s only response was to gesture to McCoy’s seat. The human looked at him warily but eventually sat again. Spock waited a few seconds as McCoy settled, once again taking up his teacup and cradling it in his hands.

“In truth, I did not know how to deal with the situation,” he began explaining. “You gave every indication that you did not wish for my company and I believed I was aiding you by remaining impassive to the situation.”

McCoy sipped his tea, still offering no opinion on it.

“I did not understand why my feelings of guilt grew. As I said, I knew I had not acted improperly, yet it never occurred to me the guilt was associated with my behaviour afterwards.”

“I get it.” McCoy fixed his gaze out of the window. “You think you should have been more of a friend to me then. Well I can assure you I didn’t want the hand of friendship. Hell, I didn’t even let Jim get close. You stood no chance.”

“Nevertheless, I should have tried.”

The doctor looked back to him, and Spock recognised the look as one of a physician to his patient.

“And now you need absolution from me, is that it? Well, I give it freely. I never blamed you Spock. I was the damn fool. Not you.”

“You cannot be considered a fool for loving, Leonard.”

Spock wasn’t sure which word was the greater mistake – ‘loving’ or ‘Leonard’. Either way, the man was pushing back his chair and retreating once again.

“Doctor!”

The call didn’t deter the human and Spock reacted instinctively. He reached out and caught McCoy’s arm.

The expression on McCoy’s face as he turned was achingly familiar.

“What do you damn well want from me?”

The blazing fury in those blue eyes reminded Spock of why he’d grown so fond of this human in the first place. Why he’d built a friendship despite their arguments and differences.

“I want your passion,” he answered honestly.

McCoy froze in shock at the word before his confused emotions rose up again.

“What in hell’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Spock released the arm he’d continued holding.

“I have always admired your confidence in your emotions. It has been too long since I last saw you so stirred.”

McCoy stopped still again, his posture radiating fight-or-flight. His sudden surrender caused him to sink into himself.

“Don’t reckon I trust my emotions any more. ‘Specially round you.”

“Doctor. Know that I will never condemn you for your feelings. It is your greatest gift.”

A huff of laughter escaped McCoy unbidden.

“Ya never used to say that.”

“I believe I have learnt many lessons over the years.” As McCoy finally glanced up to meet his eyes, Spock added. “I had not appreciated how much I missed your fierce emotionalism.”

The blue eyes dropped again and a shaky hand ran through brown hair.

“Spock… I’m not sure if we can truly be friends again.”

“I will settle for seeing you your old self.”

McCoy cautiously looked up.

“Might take a while,” he commented. “I haven’t been myself a long while.”

“I have time.”

Finally McCoy nodded.

“Guess we’ll see what tomorrow brings huh?”

“Indeed Doctor.”

Spock knew that McCoy would not bounce back to normal overnight. He recognised there would be distance between them for a considerable while. However, now they had taken the first step in acknowledging that rift, they had surely taken the first step in mending it.

Spock felt a most welcome emotion at the thought – he felt hope.


	3. The Road To Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A third installment, especially for Al_JustATrekkie and Surmarillion who requested it.

It happened in stages and Spock took careful note of each advance.

Initially Spock observed that it was with some difficulty that McCoy would remain in the same room, even for their staff briefings, and eye contact was next to impossible. He did his best to ease the situation by maintaining the boundaries implicitly set by the doctor while at the same time acting in as normal a manner as possible.

If he found himself in the mess room at the same time as McCoy then he would acknowledge the man with a nod but choose to sit elsewhere, perhaps with Chekov or Uhura.

If Jim were with him though then it would have seemed rude to vacate the area as the captain immediately made a beeline for Bones. Still, Spock would ensure he always took a seat beside Jim, diagonal from the doctor, allowing the human to avoid eye contact easily by focusing on Jim and avoiding the whole personal space issue that would arise by sitting beside him.

Jim observed all this manoeuvring with curiosity but tactfully allowed both his friends to readjust to each other at their own pace. Spock was unsure if the man recalled previous events until they were alone in the turbolift heading to the bridge and Jim said, apropos of nothing,

“This to do with that doppelganger incident?”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock had replied. And that had been that.

Spock enjoyed those mealtimes where there were the three of them since he could engage more closely with McCoy as they each debated with Jim. It was not the same as their arguments of old but it hinted that the spark of fiery spirit had not left McCoy, but had merely been banked down to embers.

Gradually, the inherited tension began to ease through renewed familiarity.

McCoy started not only glancing to Spock but even offering tentative smiles. The Vulcan determined he might risk a few direct comments – some less bland than ‘good morning’.

At first they only produced a dipped gaze and a somewhat placid reply but Spock was heartened by the fact they did not produce a retreat.

The first lunchtime that McCoy approached him, Spock understood the human expression, ‘puffed up with pride’. True, the doctor had a procedural enquiry to put to the First Officer but formerly he’d made a point of only approaching Spock about such things on duty. It wasn’t necessary either for the human to then sit at his table and eat with him.

Spock was careful not to take that as an open invite for future mealtimes and was rewarded by McCoy being thereafter relaxed enough to approach him. Their meals were often unusually quiet affairs, that made Spock ache with the remembrance of how they used to sit together and debate, but he relished the company all the same.

The moment when McCoy once again lost his temper with him, Spock actually lost his breath.

Those blazing eyes, too long cast aside from him, were as intense as he remembered. Until the doctor suddenly realised what he was doing and backed down, clearly flustered. The bridge crew were diplomatic about the incident but Spock for once determined to throw caution to the winds. He deliberately spoke and acted in a clear manner to provoke the once familiar ire.

To begin with McCoy just eyed him with confusion but Spock’s intention was quite clear. If the doctor was willing, Spock would not object to being challenged by him. Eventually the human endured one taunting eyebrow too many and snapped. His rant had every station head turning towards them.

Spock said just enough to keep the argument running without ever moving in for a decisive finish. Then he acceded defeat.

McCoy’s triumphant grin was blinding.

The freedom to engage in verbal sparring once again seemed to Spock to indicate a return to their previous level of friendship. He hoped that now he might be able to talk with the doctor and perhaps set right the errors of their past.

“You seem much more like your old self.”

The tone was quite casual but the wording was deliberate. McCoy glanced across as the Vulcan took the seat opposite him in the observation lounge. It was a long time since he’d felt the need to run from the company but there was a flicker of that instinct in his eyes again now.

To Spock’s relief, McCoy merely shifted his gaze back to the window.

“I’m still running scared,” he admitted. “Scared I’ll say or do something inappropriate. I can’t seem to forget how natural it all felt.” He didn’t need to elaborate on what he was referring too. There was only one ‘It’ between them.

“And even though I know you’re not him,” McCoy continued. “You’re so alike…”

“Perhaps now would be a good time…” Spock hesitated as well. He had made such progress restoring their friendship. The last thing he wanted was to jeopardise it again. Yet, McCoy deserved to know the truth.

“Doctor, did you ever wonder why my counterpart’s first action was to kiss you?”

The blue gaze was wary as it surveyed Spock again and for an instant Spock feared he’d been too direct. Then slowly McCoy shook his head.

“When my mind was about to be duplicated… I did not know if I should survive the mind sifter. In those last instants, it seemed logical to focus on those things I regretted… that I would change if I could… if I found I did survive the experience. Prime among those regrets, was my decision to withhold the truth of my feelings from you.”

The gasp from McCoy was audible enough for Spock to hear and he glanced anxiously to the human. The man was unnaturally still and quiet, utterly focused on the Vulcan in a way he had not been for a considerable time.

Spock wasn’t entirely reassured by the serious gaze but reasoned that at least McCoy hadn’t dismissed his attempt to explain.

“Are you saying,” McCoy spoke slowly and clearly, “that he kissed me because _you_ wanted to kiss me?”

Spock nodded.

“Thinking about events subsequently, it was the logical conclusion to draw. I mentioned before that I felt guilt for not approaching you in the aftermath. Once I had reasoned the true cause for events, I also felt guilt for my inaction prior to events.”

McCoy stared hard out the window, fingers tapping restlessly on his knee.

“Why didn’t you?”

The doctor’s voice sounded clinical, as if they were conducting a routine profile update, but Spock held the hope that the fact they were still talking at all was positive. He had half expected McCoy to tell him he never wanted to speak of those events ever again. The human did have an unfortunate habit of hiding from his problems.

“After spending so long trying to convince you I was untroubled by emotions? It is almost ironic to admit that it was in fact pride that kept me from admitting my feelings.”

The blue gaze lowered, staring somewhere off to one corner, and the voice softened.

“And what about now?”

Spock wished that McCoy would look at him, knowing his eyes would convey his sentiments better than his voice, but he answered immediately.

“My feelings for you have never changed. I love you now as I loved you then.”

McCoy’s eyes flew up at the words, showing a mixture of fear, hope and confusion.

“I still love you,” he admitted. “But… Spock, do you have any idea how much it hurt me last time I went through this? It wasn’t just believing you didn’t care. It was having everyone see my heart exposed and then getting shattered. Everyone’s pity… their well meaning platitudes…”

He turned away as his mouth twisted up in remembered pain and embarrassment.

“I confess I cannot adequately understand how that must have pained you. And I know I exacerbated it by distancing myself. Yet, I would ask that you do not give up on a prospective future because of a mistake in the past. A mistake on my part that I would change if I could.”

McCoy remained tense and unmoving opposite him and Spock feared the slim chance he was seeking to nurture was withering before his eyes.

“Leonard,” he said softly. “I will lay my own heart bare for the crew to see if that will help you to trust me again. If it is what you need to feel secure then I shall tell everyone that I am in love with you, regardless of how you respond. If you decree I must suffer as you did then I shall accept that fate.”

“Did you suffer?”

The quiet words caught Spock off guard and he blinked before understanding the question put to him.

“Seeing you so altered from the vibrant personality you were, and knowing it was ultimately the fault of my own stubborn pride… yes, I suffered. I grieved for the loss as if a very part of my being was gone. I sought freedom from the pain through kolinahr before recognising I must earn your forgiveness to truly be free again.”

Leonard looked up at him with a wavering smile.

“You have it Spock. My forgiveness… and my heart.”

Spock hardly dared to believe the words could be true. Then a quivering hand extended his way and he grasped it, swiftly bringing the knuckles to his lips and placing a desperate kiss there.

McCoy exhaled shakily.

“Let’s take it slow, okay?”

“Anything you wish, Ashayam,” Spock vowed, determined not to waste this second chance.

The endearment earnt him another half smile.

“Did ya… mean it ‘bout telling the crew?”

“Certainly I shall tell our friends as soon as you wish.”

“Think I’d quite like to be there to hear that,” McCoy commented. “Fact, don’t think I’ll get tired of hearing it anytime soon.”

Spock shifted forward to grasp the both doctor’s hands and delicately raised his little finger to his lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, tenderly kissing the pad before shifting to the next finger. “I love you,” he repeated.

McCoy sighed as all the tension left his body. And as the Vulcan kissed his way across his hands, he finally allowed himself to hope once again.


End file.
